


first of many

by Oparu



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, with a little bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 17:01:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5548340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian tries to figure out which traditions are important to Emma during the Yule.</p>
            </blockquote>





	first of many

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HookedonCS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HookedonCS/gifts).



> for the fantastic o-u-a-timer, who was my oncers send love partner who shared her Captain Swan joy with me in the lead up to Christmas. I hope this is all right. It was an adventure to write.

"Did I do it right?" He asks, shifting his feet on the dock. "Henry said cards were part of the tradition, so I procured one for you. I hope it was right."

"It was beautiful," Emma replies. She crosses her arms over her chest, all rosy from the cold. "You picked a nice one, and the calligraphy was lovely."

"Forged many an important letter with that quill," he teases. "Not that the intention of this particular invitation was anything less than sincere." Extending his hand to her with a little bow, he leads her onto his ship. The air's cold, chill with winter, but the coats they can procure here are so much warmer than anything he wore at home. Emma calls it insulation, but it's a kind of magic that one can stand outside in the snow and not be cold. 

Emma kisses his cheek after she's stepped onto the deck of the  _ Jolly Roger _ . "I didn't mean to imply that you weren't."

He strokes her cheek, then pulls her closer to kiss her properly, "Good." 

Emma leans into him, deepening the kiss that follows. "So what was it that I had to see?"

"I've been researching traditions of your Yule." He explains, making the ship ready to leave the dock. "That rope, if you will."

Her smile shines more than the stars overhead, and she presses the rope into his hands. "You get a tree, bring it inside, or maybe a plastic one if you don't want needles everywhere. You put presents underneath it, have dinner, argue--"

"Is the arguing truly a tradition?"

Emma shrugs, and the darkness he has no name for passes through her eyes once more. He'd give anything to take those sorrows from her, but because she's Emma, and the brightest light he knows, she brings herself back and smiles at him. She's light, promise and hope, somehow all beneath her strange little hat. "My parents seem to enjoy it."

"They only wished you and your brother to have a perfect celebration." He guides the ship out, not far, just a little distant from the dock and the town and all of Emma's responsibilities on the shore. "I believe this being the first one with both of you carries great weight with them."

"I know," Emma follows his hand, taking the ropes he passes her. "Doesn't make it easier."

"That's why you didn't want a tree for our house?"

She looks down, then up, her smile fading. "They had one, I thought that was enough."

"It wasn't because you disliked the lights or the baubles?"

Reaching for his chin, she shakes her head. "The lights are the best part, I just- I don't know. All the ornaments with his name on them and that happened to me too, over and over, with different people who said they'd be my parents and then weren't. Sometimes I'd be in a home for Christmas and they'd give me something, for  _ me _ , because this was my first Christmas with them and next year I could put it on the tree, with the rest of the ornaments, but there--" she falters and he leans closer, touching their foreheads. "There was never another Christmas," Emma finishes. "And I know this is different. The little guy's going to grow up and have this year and the next, and he'll probably have a whole tree full, and I'm happy for him."

"I know."

She leans against him, shutting her eyes. "Thanks."

"You are allowed to feel happy for your brother and sorrow for yourself in the same moment, love. Your childhood was a lonely one, and having your parents now will not remove the sting of the past. I know that," he promises, kissing her cheek. "As well as you do. We have each other now, your parents, frustrating as they may occasionally be, Henry, and the reformed queen, the thief and his lad. This family, odd as it is, is forever. Steadfast as the stars."

Emma kisses him, thanking him with the heat of her lips. She holds his face, staring into his eyes like he holds some kind of secret she needs. He could stare at her all night, but they've come out here for a reason. 

He steps back, keeping her hand. "Since this is our first Christmas, and it is a night of many traditions, I thought we'd start one, not with a tree, because that's mundane, easily captured and easily decorated. You and I, Emma Swan, are not part of the mundane, but something greater."  

She raises her eyebrows but lets him continue, indulging the old pirate desire for a moment worth remembering. 

"I give you, our first Christmas tree." He fumbles with the switch Henry helped him set up, terrified for a moment that it won't work, but it does. The lights flick on and the Jolly Roger is bathed in twinkling lights, thousands of them, which turn his prized ship in a sparkling mass of color. 

Emma looks up at the mast, wrapped in lights, and the sails and laughs. "You did all this?"

"I had help from Henry and some of his friends. The battery from an automobile is in the bow, making all of it work. Henry said it should last the night, if you'd care to sail beneath the brightest ship in all the seven seas." 

Her arm wraps around his waist and she pulls him close. "It's beautiful, a very non-traditional tree, but certainly the brightest I've ever seen." 

Resting his chin against her head, he nods. "That was the idea."

"Maybe we could do this," she says, slipping her gloved fingers into his. 

"Illuminate this fine sailing vessel and put gifts beneath the mast?" he asks, kissing her hat. Seems more fun than dragging a tree into the house only to drag it out again. 

"Have a tradition." She kisses his cheek, then turns, facing him. "Something we do next year."

"And the next," he adds between kisses. "For all the years that we have." 

The brilliant colors of the lights reflect in her eyes, but they have no beauty next to the hope he finds there. This is the first of many Christmases to come. He doesn't know what they'll look like, but they are as certain as his love. 


End file.
